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His gaze drifted to her thighs where they were bare between her flared miniskirt and her black leather knee boots with the bat buckles.
What? Was he going to offer her his jeans next? Hell, she’d even offer to help him take them off. She wanted to get another close-up look at his piercing anyway, just for the sake of science—and possibly her spank bank.
He sighed, and returned his attention to her face, meeting her eyes with his intense green gaze. Women always went all gooey and stupid the first time they saw Grant’s eyes. It was one of his superpowers. Not that his pretty red hair and wicked sense of humour weren’t close runners-up.
“I couldn’t think of anyone else to talk to about this. You know Will—he’s supportive but he still sees me as a kid, I think. Sometimes he treats me like I’m an idiot.”
“Well, there are times . . .”
He flipped her off companionably. “Right back at you, babe.”
She gestured for him to go on.
“Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“At twenty-eight?”
“Well, I don’t think I’ll live to be a hundred, so this could very well be midlife for me.”
“Fair enough.”
He paused, as if to gather his thoughts. “Ever since we started the club, even though it’s half mine, you know I’ve never really had a controlling interest.”
She stopped him. “I think Will would be more than happy to let you take the reins on a lot of things if you showed an interest. Usually you seem more invested in hosting than managing. There’s nothing wrong with that. Both jobs are necessary and important.”
He waved a hand. “It’s not just that. Will busted his ass to get us off the streets—I just followed along and did what I was told. That was fine when I was a kid, but I’m starting to feel like I’ve been riding his coattails my whole life. I want something that’s mine and only mine. Or at least not his.” He winced and rolled his eyes, then ran his fingers through his hair absently searching for knots. “I sound like an ungrateful child, right?”
It was obvious he was waiting for her to cast judgement.
“You sound like a grown man who’s tired of living in another man’s shadow.”
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath as though relieved, then pulled a pen out of his top drawer and started to twirl it between his fingers—surprisingly nimble for a guy with big hands. Then again, he was usually fiddling with something. He got bored easily.
“Do you have a plan?”
“No, not yet. But I do think I want to start my own business.”
Hey, this really was a platonic friend conversation. Look at them go!
“Doing what?”
He grimaced. “I have no idea. I don’t really have any marketable skills—at least nothing I want to do for money anymore.”
Dex raised her brows at him impatiently. “Think about the skill set you’ve built helping to run Catacombs.”
“Hosting? Flirting? Showing new people around?” He glanced up at the ceiling as though it may hold the answer he wanted. The pen didn’t stop twirling between his fingers, and Dex found it as mesmerizing as she always had.
“Customer service is a solid, transferable skill.”
“Better than servicing customers, I guess.” His mouth twisted.
“You haven’t been an escort for a long time,” she said carefully. This was always a touchy subject for him. “You need to get past the idea that your dick and your charm are your only assets.”
“Right. I also have more money than I know what to do with.”
“Instead of starting a business, you could just buy a house. A fancy-ass one.”
“For what? So I can host dinner parties? So I can wear a Hugh Hefner robe with impunity?”
